


listening in for a heartbeat

by Hermia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermia/pseuds/Hermia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erica knows how to read people. She's cracked them open in private, filling herself up with the words and pictures in grayscale. She's watched them move while they're in love and telling lies and getting angry. There's one in particular she'd like to read, but he's a diary with a latch and hastily scribbled sentences and uneven pages. Maybe one day he'll hand her the key. Or maybe she'll pick the lock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	listening in for a heartbeat

It was still difficult to control his supernatural senses. There were times when even the slightest intake of breath was as loud as a passing train.

And then there was times like this, where Isaac was dull and listless and could hear nothing, not even the beat of his own heart.

A beat which, at this moment, was rapid and strong, visible along the skin of his neck.

If he had any idea what his body was doing, he would have recognized the cause. The thick iron chains Derek had dragged out of a chest still coiled and curled on the floor. The sight, the sound, even the smell of the metal was enough to bring back the memories of a pitch black icebox, cramping his body more and more over the years, of metal peeling under nails and eventually nails peeling from skin in a desperate attempt to claw his way out.

He was going to be chained up again. All he wanted was to be free. To have people he could count on without fearing retribution.... but that wasn't what he got. What he got was a broken arm when he mentioned he'd need some time to recover from training. What he got was an alpha who would rather berate and beat than sit and teach. What he got, ultimately, was his father, only now he lived in a train tunnel, sleeping on a broken seat, lacking nearly every amenity he had before his father was murdered.

Kneeling down, he clutched the links in his hands. His heart rate picked up even more.

He was ignored, of course, by most of the pack. Boyd wasn't even in the tunnel; no one knew where he was. Derek turned his back and pulled himself in and blocked him out. But there was still Erica.

At first, she tried to focus on the chemistry book in her hands. She narrowed her eyes at the words. She flipped the paper loudly, hoping the sound would create a fracture in her connection to that of her fellow beta's racing heartbeat. However, with every second, it grew louder. The more she thought about not listening, the more she listened and the more she remembered from their talk with Derek only an hour earlier.

Remembering the look on his face wasn't hard. She knew what forcibly blank looked like. It was an expression she worked out early on. Isaac was never quick to speak, but explanations poured out of his mouth once the chains fell to the ground, all of them reasons why they shouldn't be chained. All of them sounded like lies.

Closing her textbook, Erica placed it on the seat next to her and got to her feet. They were bare and soundless on the scuffed floor of the train car, on the concrete of the abandoned station, all the way up to the stretch of empty space behind Isaac and the harnesses and the metallic clang of the chains. She didn't say anything as she walked up to stand at his side. While she didn't kneel, she bent at the waist, and her fingers gripping at the second set of chains before putting them inside of the box.

They fell to the bottom with a sound that rang in her ears, but they were in the box, the box she'd close the moment Isaac put his in, too. 

“We can't leave them dragging.”

Isaac hadn't registered her words, or even the fact he wasn't alone any longer until he saw her tilt into his line of sight. Erica's presence was a small, brief comfort that quirked the corner of his mouth for a mere second before he shook his head.

“I... I'm sorry,” he muttered, running his hand over his hair. “I didn't... I was somewhere else when you were talking. Did you need something?” 

Erica motioned towards the box with a hand before bending down farther, squatting beside him with an arm around her knees. “You should put those up,” she said, her eyes traveling from his face to the chains in his hands to his face again. “Someone might... trip or something.” That wasn't the case. Werewolves didn't trip, and definitely not over something laying on the floor.

If anyone knew the phrase 'out of sight, out of mind' was utter bullshit, it was her. But that didn't mean she wasn't willing to try.

“Right.”  


The moment the heavy chains were over the open box, he dropped them, eager to have the things out of his hands, only cringing violently at the sound. Isaac shut the top quickly, securing the latch and straightening himself up, taking a deep breath through his nose. He wasn't supposed to still be affected by this. But then, it was too much to hope that things might change.  


“There. Better.” No it wasn't. The chains were still there. The threat lingered. Isaac's jaw twitched. “I should have put them away when Derek left.” 

“Yeah... you should have.” Erica spoke slowly, a line of worry forming between her brows as she pushed herself up to stand in front of him. She knew a few details about Isaac's life before the bite. Years of feeling like they weren't in the same boat, but paddling in the same unruly waters forged an unspoken connection between the two. Even if it was one-sided, a link from her to him that started one day in junior high when she realized his eyes were a pretty shade of blue. They were still the same color, but they were oftentimes rock instead of water, hard. That forcibly blank look that gave her empathy pains. “But now you have. So that's good.”

Tilting her head a little to the left, she slipped her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. “Something's up, though.” There was no reason to ask. It was better not to give him the option to lie. “What's wrong? We can talk.”

Isaac blinked at her, corners of his then lips turned down. He couldn't remember the last time someone asked him what was wrong, if he wanted to talk. The bond Erica felt wasn't one-sided; they were both invisible and were kindred spirits simply by being ignored. However, Isaac had perfected the art. He needed to be ignored, needed to avoid questions. Erica was forcibly shoved into being unnoticed because no one wanted to deal with her seizures.  


“Nothing's wrong,” he replied mechanically, face as emotionless as his voice. “Just worried about the full moon.” 

“If you're actually worried about that, you're doing a bad job of convincing me.” Her brows relaxed, her face going from worried to passive to curious in the time between words. “You're not worried about Derek, either. I've spent way too much time watching people for you to get something like that past me. Sorry.”

His jaw twitched again, arms coming up to wrap around his thin waist. It was a defensive posture; he was very nearly curling inward on himself. “I just don't like the idea of being chained up.” Isaac's fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. “You can't tell me that's _weird_.” 

“Hey, some people are into it.” Erica wet her lips. It wasn't a slight or something said to make him feel uncomfortable. It was a reflex, falling out of her mouth as easy as breathing. Instead of apologizing, she bit down on the tip of her tongue and glanced away in the direction of the box. “It's _not_ weird. I don't exactly get off on not being in complete control of my body, either. I don't wanna do this any more than you do.”

“Then just. _Drop it_.” He hadn't meant to growl, to snap at the one member of their little pack that seemed to give a shit about anyone other than his or herself. But he was raw, exposed, terrified. The chest was just about the same size as the icebox. What if Derek decided that was a good form of training?  


The thought made his heart speed up again, and this time he felt it. “Derek should be teaching us. He's not even trying. That's the issue here.” 

“No. You don't want to be locked up, and you clearly have a good reason. One Derek refuses to pay attention to. _That's_ the issue here.” Erica took a step back before bending down and closing the lock on the chest. She didn't have the key, but...

The locking mechanism was easy enough to break with a nail. They were hard and a little thinner than a key and fit inside without much trouble. Breaking was so much easier than breaking in; she'd discovered that much since the bite. Letting the padlock creak back against the chest, Erica glanced over her shoulder at Isaac. “That should get the point across.”

His blue eyes doubled in size, feet tripping over themselves as he took a few steps back, head tilted and forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Why did you do that?” Isaac's voice was sharp with fear. “He'll-- He'll be angry. What if he does something worse with the chains now?” 

“Like what? Chain us up like he was gonna do in the first place?” Straightening herself up, she turned towards him. She didn't like seeing Isaac afraid. She didn't like knowing it was her fault, even in the slightest. But most of all, she didn't like feeling that she'd screwed up because she knew she couldn't take it back and she knew she wouldn't apologize. “He needs to know he's a shitty teacher. This'll get the conversation going.”

“He _broke my arm_ because I told him I needed some time to heal.” Isaac was speaking to Erica, but his eyes were glued to the chest. He could still see the chains. Sometimes, when he was particularly bad, his father would wrap him in them before throwing him in the icebox, instead of just around it. He could feel them around his body, constricting his breath and twisting his arms the more he struggled.  


He wasn't sure how he ended up on the floor, backed up against some of the rusted debris littering the tunnel. Hadn't he been standing? Talking? Isaac drew his legs up against his chest, hugging them tightly, lips pressed to his knees. There was a slight rocking motion as he sat, gaze refusing to leave the chest, as if it were a predator waiting for him to look away. 

The line of sight was broken by Erica as she stepped in front of him, closer than she had been, standing but her chin was tucked down and there was equal parts concern and fear in her eyes. Didn't people usually pity you if you ended up snapping? If they didn't make fun of you, isn't it pity? But there's none of that in her wide brown eyes. Just worry and hesitation and wondering whether or not she should extend her hand. 

“Isaac? Come on. Get up.” Her voice was slow, but not strong. And when she spoke again, her words were no more than a breath. “The floor's gross. C'mon.”

A shiver wracked through his body and Isaac clung onto his legs even tighter. It took another call of his name, louder, but not a yell, for him to find her eyes. There was a strength in her, a strength he never had. Even when the world was against her, she was able to hold onto little bits of herself. Bits and pieces that she was able to patch together now that the werewolf regeneration had removed her seizures from the equation.  


Isaac didn't have that luxury. He hadn't been allowed to grow or find his own way. He was a creature of his father's making. Maybe that was all he'd ever be.  


He rose on unsteady feet, leaning against some odd hunk of metal behind him, eyes that had been focused on Erica now fixing firmly on the ground. “I'm – I'm alright,” Isaac murmured. “I'm alright. I just... I fell...?” 

“You fell,” she repeated. 

When she finally chose to reach out to him, Erica set her hand on the metal next to his. Her blunt nails brushed against the rust, but she didn't cringe. The skin beneath her eye twitched, but otherwise, she simply looked at him looking at the ground. “I'll talk to Derek. You can... go out. Get something to eat. Like a burger – no furry creatures or anything. Give me an hour.”

The boy just nodded. He needed to get away.  


“Yeah. I should-- I need to go.” Isaac found her eyes, his clear blue meeting her impossibly deep brown. “Thank you.” _For not prying. For being here. For not judging me._ “I could-- I could bring you back something, if you wanted?” 

“Cheeseburger,” she replied with an actual, genuine smile that lit up her face. Taking a step forward, Erica dusted off his jacket, straightening it, making it look like nothing had happened since he put it on that morning. Like everything was alright and she hadn't just witnessed a panic attack, like everything would be fine once she talked to Derek and once Isaac had something in his stomach. “No pickles or onions.”

“Got it.” Isaac managed a small smile at her, more of a twitch of his cheek, but it was something.  


There was a brief, awkward pause, the kind that came with not really knowing how to say goodbye. In the end, words wouldn't come, so he drew her into a friendly hug, arms around her shoulders, the tiny smile that he had before growing wider when she returned it with arms around his waist and a gentle squeeze.  


He left a moment later, still feeling warm from the hug, grateful for the contact and a lone friend. Maybe one day he'd be able to tell her about the darkness. About why raised voices and fists make him cringe, why the clink of chains make his heartbeat sound as if he'd just sprinted a mile.  


Isaac wasn't sure he wanted her to know, but he wagered she would be seeing worse now that she was involved with Derek. Perhaps a reminder that humans were worse than the monsters they heard about in stories would be just what she needed some day down the line. 


End file.
